


On Love, In Sadness

by dragon_temeraire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, non-specific - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 16:20:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6761245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles tries to comfort Derek after loss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Love, In Sadness

**Author's Note:**

> A friend of mine died a few days ago, so I wrote this self-indulgent little thing to help myself through. This is not a very shippy fic. Warning for discussions of grief.

When he walks in, Derek is sitting hunched over on the couch, his head in his hands. Stiles hesitates, then makes his way across the room and sits next to him. Derek doesn’t react at all.

“So,” Stiles says quietly, when it becomes obvious Derek won’t break the silence. “Everyone has different ways of grieving. Some people get angry, others get bitter. Some try to find someone to blame. Some people hide themselves away, and some people drink.”

“And how do you grieve?” Derek asks, his voice sounding rusty.

“I end up running my mind over the same sad thoughts. Over and over, like sandpaper, until I’m worn down to nothing,” he says softly. “Until I feel empty enough to talk without breaking down. Or until I’m exhausted enough to sleep.”

Derek drops his hands from his face. “I feel like I should be an expert in mourning by now,” he says tiredly. “But I’m not. Sometimes my grief feels so big I can’t express it, can’t even comprehend it.”

“Someone once told me that people hold on to grief, because it’s what they have instead.” He swallows thickly. “Instead of the person they love. So they carry it around with them, everywhere they go.”

“Do you-- Do you think that’s a bad thing?” Derek asks, almost inflectionless.

“I don’t really know. When my mom died, I cried for days. I kept thinking things like _we’ll never bake cookies together again_ , and _we’ll never play in the park again_. And it was devastating. I couldn’t move past it, and I didn’t know what to do.”

Derek shifts a little, letting his shoulder rest comfortingly against Stiles’.

“I felt like I was caught in an endless loop. Everything I saw reminded me of her, and I thought about her all the time. My dad was totally overwhelmed, and he couldn’t really help me. But I knew I wanted things to change. So I started talking about her,” he says, and gently nudges Derek. “Mostly with Scott, but sometimes with other people too. I would tell them about the jokes we had, the way we would draw together every Wednesday night. How she taught me to braid yarn, so I would have something to do with my hands when I got restless. Stuff like that.” He takes a deep breath. “They were always happy stories, but sometimes I would cry anyway. I just kept doing it, until I could think of her and smile, instead of feeling so lost. Until my memories didn’t hurt.”

It’s quiet for a long moment. “Thank you. For telling me,” Derek says. “And for being here.”

“If it’s what you need,” Stiles says, leaning into Derek a little more. “Then I’m happy to stay. Honestly, whatever you need.”

Derek gives him a tiny glance, and Stiles can see how wet his eyes are. He doesn’t say anything, though, so Stiles figures he’ll keep talking. 

“When I was little, I went to my grandfather’s funeral. Now, I didn’t really know him that well. I only saw him a couple of times a year. So I was totally fine until I walked into that funeral home. It just sort of hit me, you know? Delayed reaction. I was standing in front of his casket, and I just started sobbing. Nobody else was crying, but I just couldn’t stop. I would see how sad my grandmother looked, think about how lonely she would be, and I would just start all over again. And a bunch of the other relatives, they kept looking at me like I was out of line. Like they couldn’t believe I was here, crying in public.” He shrugs. “So I hid in the bathroom until I got it under control. I washed my face, and I clenched my teeth, and I didn’t talk to anyone for hours.”

He looks over, and Derek’s actually meeting his eyes. Stiles has to believe that’s progress. That he’s helping somehow.

“What I’m trying to say is, I don’t think anyone should be shamed for their grief. I mean, if you need to bawl your eyes out to feel better, you totally should.” He nudges Derek again. “These days, I’m more likely to crank up the music and scream out the lyrics until I feel myself again. But you gotta do what you have to, so you can get through it.” He clears his throat. “Anyway. What I’m getting at is that I want to be here for you. I want to help you. But I’m not sure how.”

Derek shakes his head. “I don’t know either. But it’s hard right now, because I can’t stop thinking about it. Can’t stop replaying it in my head,” he says, and holds his hand out. “Could you just talk to me? About something else?”

“Sure,” Stiles says, and takes Derek’s hand. “Anything you want.”

He squeezes tight, and doesn’t let go.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't specify who Derek was grieving for, so if you want to imagine it's for Erica or Boyd, that's fine.


End file.
